Coming Home
by Sumterlinks
Summary: Sarif, Taggart, Darrow, and Adam Jensen are all coming back to Detroit after Panchea. But Adam hasn't heard anything from Pritchard since those last words, "I...I think...you're on your own, this time." He can't find him, but when he does, things Adam never thought would happen all come to play. Adam/Pritchard. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Breaking, to Mend

**Disclaimer: I do not own Deus Ex: Human Revolution, nor am I making any sort of profit. This is a non-profit entertainment work of fiction. Deus Ex and it's characters and scenarios are all copyright to their creators. I would also like to say, as I deem to be regulation on this site, this may later include homosexual pairings between male characters later on. Luckily for anyone against that, there isn't any of that in this chapter. But, let's be realistic here. Who _isn't_ looking for homosexual fanfiction on this site? If you _are_, and to you, I say 'what creature are you?,' keep an eye on these 'Disclaimers,' and I'll tell you if there is anything you need to worry about.**

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They had finally managed to go back home. It felt almost humorous to be riding in a chopper with Hugh Darrow, Bill Taggart, and David Sarif. All men who have never seen completely eye to eye. Now, he was the messiah among these men, so they say, all as they discuss the next steps for mankind. The youngest of the group just watched the land and sea pass underneath him, his temple nearly pressed against the glass.

Malik was dead, because of him. All because he had to get involved in this. It wasn't for nothing, but he cared for her. She was like family to him, and he let her die. Eyes closing even behind the shades hiding them, Adam felt his heart sink a bit. He remembered those last words he heard through his Infolink.

"Son?" David extended his Augmented arm out to shake Adam's knee, looking up at him, with a weary expression. "Yeah, boss?" The younger man's glance turned to him, voice a bit grim beneath all that gravel. "We're going to be landing soon. Have you been able to get Frank on the comms?" Sarif asked, sitting back in his seat. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard from Pritchard in quite some time. "Not at all. We'll see when we get there." He nodded in response, before Taggart drew him back into conversation.

Looking down once more, he thought. Something had been wrong. He knew Pritchard too well by now. Over time, he had been losing his sharp tongue, and replacing it with something else. Was something bothering Francis? Was there something he wasn't letting on? Pausing his thoughts, he pursed his lips, trying to figure out some sort of reason.

_'I...think you're on your own.'_

The last thing he had heard from him. He had retorted with a cocky 'You sound like you regret saying that.' But, looking back, Francis had...sounded like he was saying his goodbyes. His eyes widened, before he felt his tear ducts burning, pushing fluid through. Salt water. It didn't go on long, it just rimmed his waterline, which was hidden well behind shades. That was Pritchard's way of saying goodbye. He didn't even _think_ the spotter would even care if he died. This whole time it looked like he hated Adam's existence.

He came back to reality when he heard David and Bill raising their voices to one another. "No, we can't risk something like that. We need to get rid of the straitjacket, Bill." Sarif groaned, causing a chuckle from Hugh. "David, it is most glorious that we have been given this opportunity to further ourselves and the people we care for, but...We must not jump into the unknown, we must carefully and slowly step our way in." He murmured with a curt smile. "See? He agrees, Dave. We must stick with only what we know." Taggart said firmly, before he looked back to the oldest of the four, being cut off. "Now, William, I never said that. I agree with the both of you. We may push, but, we must be careful and conscious of our progress."

The guy was too charismatic for his own good. Scoffing, he looked back out the window, mood picked up a bit. But now, what was going to happen? Was he going to be a lab rat for these three? And what about Megan? How did she fit into all of this? His stomach turned and his mood dropped right back down.

She had hurt him. All those years they were together, it felt like she was just doing it to observe him scientifically behind his back. And then, taking his DNA? Using it in the lab? She was the whole reason this happened. If she hadn't taken his DNA, the Illuminati wouldn't have gotten involved at all, and Augmentation would have eventually gotten voted out. He had been gutted by one girl and lost another.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize that they were beginning to land on the helipad of Sarif Industries. They all got out, and, despite his aches and pains, he was glad to be back. Walking in after the men he rode with, he was stopped by one of his own men. "Jensen." The tall, bulky security guard chuckled, looking down at Adam.

"Ross." Adam returned, a small smirk tugging at the corners of the Manager's lips. Before he knew it, he was brought in a hug, with a firm pat to the back, earning a wince unbeknownst to the assailant. He was so sore from Panchea. "Good to have you back, Mister J." The man smiled as he pulled away, giving another pat to a metallic shoulder. "Thanks. How are the riots going outside?" The gravelly voice spoke, arms folding.

"They've calmed down a little bit. Those damn Purists. 'Soon as Taggart moves his ass out there for a speech with Darrow and Sarif, I'm sure it'll fix."

"Right," Adam nodded, trying to figure out what to do. He might as well see if there was any office work he needed to do. "Have you seen Pritchard around?" Adam asked after a moment. "No, sir. He left sometime around three in the morning yesterday. Hasn't come in yet, or called in." Ross shook his head, looking across the building at the empty Tech Lab.

"Hm. Well, I'm gonna check everything out. Be seeing you, later." Adam said softly, walking off to the Tech Lab. He was greeted by a few coworkers on the way. Stepping into Pritchard's lab, finally, he confirmed it was empty. Walking over, he touched the terminal's keyboard, and saw a radar feed, and a few minimized windows. The 3D model of the Panchea complex was still open, but fragmented, as Francis had told him over the Infolink while he was there. Clicking on two more windows, he found recorded feed and audio. He hit the playback button, and watched.

Growing quiet, he realized it was a recording of their last moments together, saved to his computer. Had Pritchard really been worried? Or was this some sort of joke? Maybe something to contribute to Picus? It was sad, actually, to listen to. Clicking on the audio recording, he heard the words shared between them. "I...I think...you're on your own." "Heh. You sound like you regret saying that, Francis." Adam realized it was on repeat. Pritchard had been listening to it over and over again. Looking down from the terminal, he saw a few crumpled tissues.

Wait. Had Pritchard been..._crying_? His heart felt as if it had stopped. There was more to note. The chair that Frank sat in had been laying on the floor, and a stack of papers heaved off his desk, scattered on the floor. Furrowing his brow, Adam felt like he needed to leave._ Now_. This was too much, too fast, all upon coming back to Detroit.

He closed the door on his way out, and made his way downstairs, to the front door. He could see Sarif, Taggart, and Hugh Darrow outside in front of a large crowd. Great. Stepping out, he heard that Taggart was giving a speech. "Boss, I need to go home." He mumbled into the older man's ear, stepping up behind him. "Sure, Son. The riots are calmed down, for now. Walk off the side to avoid any conflict. I'll contact you later. Go home, Adam." David said quietly, giving a slight smile.

Nodding, the security manager made his way to leave, trying to avoid the eyes of the Purists focused on Taggart. Luckily, he made his way out, and stepped onto the streets. The roads had been riddled with police and SWAT members, not to mention the giant robots sat inactive. Glows of reds and blues flashed on Adam as he waded past the police cars, and went down an alley to cut across to the other side of the city.

He saw a few punks sat handcuffed on the curb, a few being hauled up into a van to be arrested. One of the officers nodded to him and he returned the gesture, making his way to the Chiron Apartment Building. Stepping inside, he sighed in slight relief. People were back, and some were taking refuge from the riots, watching the Live speech being broadcasted on Picus News in the lobby. Haas was gone, and Adam felt something roll in his stomach.

Had the ex-cop been alright? He supposed as the days went on, he'd find out. Making his way to the front desk, he saw his landlady. "Jensen, you'll be happy to know that we've got a replacement mirror for you. Charlie should have installed it, by now." The sighed, eyes fixed on the computer she was working off of. "Thanks." Adam rasped, nodding and making his way to the elevator.

Soon, he was walking up to his door, punching in the code. "Welcome home, Mister Jensen. You have a visitor." The automated voice greeted him, as he walked through, and saw the security had already been turned off. A visitor, huh? Putting up his guard, he walked in and stepped slowly down the stairs, to find a figure standing in front of his window, looking at a cog to the clock he had been working on. The person must have heard him step down into the room, because the cog dropped from their fingers, and they turned to see him. It was Francis, speechless. He looked tired, and like he had been crying, confirming Adam's earlier thoughts.

"A-Adam..." The older man said softly, turning fully to see him. "Good of you to visit, Francis." Adam responded, rather sarcastically, his usual take with Pritchard. But, before he knew it, he was stumbling back, trying to gain his footing. A pressure was around his waist. Looking down, he couldn't believe his eyes. Frank was..._hugging_ him. Tight. Burying into him. He stayed that way, almost shamelessly, and he could hear him begin to cry. Oh, god.

"You _idiot_-" Pritchard breathed, and Adam felt a tighten against his shoulders, from his coat. Francis was gripping at his clothes. At first, he wanted to shove him off and deck him for this sort of conduct, but tried to be open, and bring his arms around the Tech's shoulders. "I thought you were dead. I thought for sure you'd-" He mumbled, before sobbing again, hands moving around to Adam's chest, fists banging helplessly against it. It earned a strained groan from Adam, but he endured it. Hearing the sound, Pritchard shot up, and looked down. "You're hurt-" He furrowed his brows, internally cursing at himself for being inconsiderate this one time.

"I'm fine, Francis. Come here." Adam stepped back and walked to his couch, where Frank composed himself a bit, and joined him. He was embarrassed by his little emotional fit, and tried to act like his usual, assholish self. "What, Jensen?" He asked, rather rudely, sniffling a bit. Scoffing, Adam elected to ignore it. "Sarif's with Taggart and Darrow. They're calming the streets down and making an announcement." He said softly, looking down behind shades. "Why weren't you in the lab?"

Frank looked sideward, clearing his throat. "I- I couldn't help you any more, Adam. I went home for the night." He said hesitantly. Then, his CASIE flared. Pritchard currently showed a slight trace in being a Beta. A few windows popped up on his retinal display, showing signs of an increase in heart rate and breath. His intuition was showing him that Pritchard couldn't look at him, and was blinking quite a bit.

"You're lying. Ross told me that you were there until three in the morning. Don't give me that bullshit." Adam said apprehensively. "And then you didn't come in today, at all. Where were you?" His brows furrowed, fists tightening.

"I- I was at home." Francis kept his eyes away, moving a hand to brush a few stray hairs behind his ear.

"Really? You don't sound very convincing." Adam narrowed his eyes. "You're lying again."

"Look. Who are you to play detective with me, Jensen? It's none of your business." Francis grew irritated. Why did he even waste the tears on Adam? This was no better, and now they were just back to square one. Adam paused when he saw that the gauge for Alpha was filling more than the previous Beta reading. He'd better turn this around.

"Look, Francis..." Adam sat up, looking down to the fabric of the couch between them. "When you suddenly dropped contact while I was in Panchea, I got concerned. Now, you look like you're getting defensive about it, and I'm sorry to be invasive, but I really have to know." The younger man said softly, looking back up to Pritchard.

"W- I..." The techie was a bit thrown for a loop. He stared a bit in shock at Adam, before his eyes looked down, right, to left, a few times. The CASIE alerted Adam, and the conversation was clearing back into a better direction. The Beta indication was coming back. "I...really couldn't help you out anymore, Adam. The- The map was incomplete, and I couldn't capture your signal with that transmission that was being sent off... I- I couldn't do anything." Frank moved his hand back, to smooth out his ponytail, and he sniffled once, from the previous cry-session.

"That isn't it, Francis. It was something else. You could have spoken to me. I was nervous, going down there." The CASIE was warning him. He had to drop his wall in order to preserve this. "I was _scared_, Pritchard. I needed someone to be there for me. Why did you have to go?" His voice hardened a bit, as he felt uncomfortable, telling someone he was usually so impersonal with how he really felt. It just didn't sit right with him.

"I'm- Look- I'm sorry-" Blue eyes narrowed, and his voice broke, and he began to sob softly again, looking down from Adam out of shame and embarrassment. He was just too impacted by this whole ordeal to keep up his usual dickish face. And the CASIE saw it, too. His Beta gauge was raging. But Adam would keep this approach. "I tried to find you in your lab, and I saw the recordings you had open." Adam admitted, and Pritchard looked up, brows furrowed in anger, jaw dropped. The conversation seemed to turn south, and it warned Adam.

"I'm sorry. I was worried. How can you blame me when you just went AWOL on me, like that? I didn't know _where_ you were." Adam spoke in his defense, but gently, trying to calm the tension back down. "If you really want to know, Adam, it's because I couldn't sit there and listen to you die. I couldn't-" He stopped, trying to keep from crying again. "...I had to remove myself because _**I was scared, too.**_" Pritchard nearly shouted at him, and Adam stayed calm.

"You thought I was going to die. What does it matter to you, Pritchard?" He couldn't do this anymore. His approach turned aggressive. The older one stood up and stood back to stare down at Adam, speechless and angry. "What does it- _What does it matter to me_?!" Frank yelled, fists balled. "Contrary to what you may _think_, Jensen, I have grown over my childish hatred of you but it seems _you've_ not moved ahead yet." The blue-eyed tech kept his voice raised.

"I've been trying to be nice, trying to reach out to you, and I attempted the past _week_ to really care about you so we could work well together. But as soon as you find out your _pretty little ex-girlfriend_ may yet be alive, you turned cold as ice on me again, after we started to work together!" He turned away, hands on the desk, head hung.

"_That's not true, Frank_." Adam said loudly, standing up defensively, shutting off his CASIE to think about his own feelings and not the other's.

Spinning around, he glared, smiling in disbelief. "Oh _really_? What exactly was it you said to me after you got into Singapore? Let me think." He mused sarcastically, scoffing.

"I told you-" Adam stopped, remembering now. Francis was right.

"I don't have time to help you keep tabs on me. I have better things to do, like figuring out where Megan and the others are." Pritchard recited on a sharp growl. "I could have helped you, Jensen- I could have made your job easier- But what did you do? You kept me out of the loop, like you have all week, and I've dealt." He threw his hands up in frustration. "I'm supposed to be your spotter, Jensen. And you can't seem to accept the fact that Megan..._was using you_." He hissed, taking a step forward.

"You take that back, right now, Pritchard." Adam warned, voice raising again, feeling anger and defense flood his body.

"See? You're doing it now- You refuse to accept that all these years, you've just been some _science experiment_ kept in a pretty cage. The only reason Sarif has you working here is because of your fucked up DNA! The only reason Megan loved you was because you were the perfect little-"

Adam socked him across the cheek, and he spun back to the table, knees buckling in and cheek colliding with the wood, before he braced himself, kneeling on the floor, face planted on the desk. He was silent, and still, feeling his cheek was cut, and beginning to mix blood with his saliva.

The younger man froze, and stared wide eyed at the fit of rage he just experienced. He just hit Pritchard, for being right. About _everything_. Looking down, he tried to catch his breath from hyperventilating. "Francis-" He lunged forward to pick him up off the floor, turning him to face him, where Pritchard threw his hands up in a flinch, as if Adam was readying another strike. "...I'm a monster." He breathed, swallowing, feeling the fright that Pritchard was experiencing.

The tech's hands came down, and he looked wide eyed up at Adam, blood seeping down his chin. "Adam-"

"All you've been trying to do is be a better work partner, and...maybe even a friend- and all I've done is shut you out. No wonder why you can't tell me anything." He retracted his shades, green-yellow eyes looking down, and showing the hint of tears on his waterline, but neither knew to acknowledge it. Slowly, he moved to set Pritchard down on his couch. The long-haired tech looked up as Adam stood, fingers coming to his stinging, aching cheek. "Stay here." He ordered, softly, walking out of the room and into his bedroom for a moment.

Unsure what to do, Pritchard felt like he had done enough damage by being here, and was about to get up, but- He heard something coming from the bathroom. A breathy sound, it sounded like...silent sobbing. And then he heard a shatter on impact. It was glass. Adam had broken the brand new replacement mirror with his fist. Oh, maintenence was not going to be happy with him, at all. Rising to his feet, he ran up the stairs and into the bedroom.

"...Jensen...?" Pritchard asked cautiously, sidestepping until he saw a crumpled black figure on the floor. Hurrying inside, Pritchard moved his hands to push Adam back, only to have him cover his face with black, shiny fingers, batting Frank away. Adamant, he pried at the hands to come away, and after a struggle, he saw something he never thought possible. Adam was _crying_. What had occured this week was emotionally crushing to them both, and they couldn't take anymore. They were both breaking.

"Adam- Adam-" The security technician sat down beside him, and moved his jaw to get Adam to look at him. Too weak to resist, he turned his head to look at Pritchard, but his eyes stayed down. His lips were pursed, nostrils flared, cheeks rosy as tears came down his cheeks. A sight Frank never thought he'd see or even fathom in his life. "Adam... You're not a monster." Francis said comfortingly, but sternly, and firm.

"I never even wanted this-" His raspy voice was wet, saliva thick from crying. "I just wanted someone who cared- Not this. Not this body- Not this _fucked up job_, or this whole _fucked up argument_ about fucking Augs..." He sobbed softly, but angrily. "I just wanted someone...to be happy with, with a job that didn't want me as a guinea pig. And now...I'm the poster boy for LIMB clinics and manufacturers- Everyone's gonna get my DNA now like I'm some sort of vaccination against an epidemic-" He choked breathily, and all Francis did was listen.

"Everyone has a reason to have me around." He concluded, head dropping, where he sniffled, moving a sleeve up to brush his nose. A long pause, and Pritchard felt his stomach stir. "...I never had a reason." The hacker said quietly. "I never even _wanted_ you around, Jensen." He grinned a bit, and it earned a soft laugh out of Adam. Good. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up." He sighed, looking down, hands on Adam's shoulders.

"No, you're right. And I see it now." He looked to the side, sighing, the sobbing and tears halting slowly. "I didn't mean to hit a nerve this badly. But... Seriously, Jensen. I haven't had a single friend in the workplace because people can't deal with my crap. You're the closest thing I have to a friend, _what does that tell you_?" He chuckled, even though it was true.

"...Tells me you're a real loser, Francis." Adam quipped, grinning a little. The other couldn't help but scoff in slight offense. "...It's true. But... being like a friend...I'd like it if you'd let me in, Jensen. I'm honestly not looking to rip your head off. You can dispose of me in whatever way you like if I do end up stabbing your back." Pritchard reassured with his accented voice, brows furrowing.

Adam looked up, and smiled a little bit, giving his last sniffle to keep from running all over the floor. "Good, you know I'll choose carefully." He murmured. "Thank you, Frank." He said softly, and the older one shook his head. "It's nothing, Jensen, don't get so melodramatic on me." Pritchard groaned fakely, standing up. "Now come on, get up, before I call your landlady up here and call you a psychopath for assaulting both the mirror and me." He bitched, teasing now.

"Mm, need to fix that." He made a sheepish face, bringing himself to stand, looking behind Pritchard to get the First-Aid Kit. "Come on. Let's get you fixed up before you file a lawsuit." Adam murmured, walking out of the bathroom with the kit.

"Ah, Jensen, that _really_ won't be necessary. I'm fine." Francis smoothed his ponytail again, looking away awkwardly, biting his lip. "Pritchard, same goes for you coming here just to drool all over my coat." Adam gruffly noted the crying earlier. "Now come on." He called behind him, and reluctantly, Francis followed him out into the living room.

**(( A.N.: Hope that wasn't _too_ terrible, this was the first draft and I wanted to get it posted before I deleted the whole thing out of a fluster. I may revise and polish it at a later time, but otherwise, I would greatly appreciate a review. Please? ))**


	2. Righting Wrongs

**Disclaimer: I do not own Deus Ex: Human Revolution, nor am I making any sort of profit off of this fanfiction. This is a non-profit work of fiction only for entertainment. Deus Ex and its characters and scenarios are all copyright to their creators and designers. I also want to warn you this will contain homosexual pairings later on. Second warning for the fans, this contains some bromance. I want to thank each and every one of you for your reviews and support! It made me want to post another chapter, so, here you go. I hope this one is just as good, if not better than the last, I'm still trying to get this whole fanfic thing down. I had fun writing this, though. Enjoy!**

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Walking over to the elegant couch that awaited him, Frank couldn't help but notice that the resident had tried to take away from the modern look a bit. Narrowing his eyes in curiosity, he sat down in the center of the little two-person sofa and watched as Adam made to turn the television on. He had it on the Picus network- What Francis usually spent his time watching. News reports, TV series, the occasional L.I.M.B. Clinic promotions. His eyes stayed on Eliza Casaan, who was giving a report about the speech Sarif and Taggart were giving in front of the building where the two men worked.

Pritchard couldn't deny, he had developed a bit of a crush on the news anchor. It was pretty sad, finding out she was an AI- A holographic projection. He felt his heart sink a bit when he thought about the fact he would never be able to tell her how he liked her. Francis wasn't exactly the romantic type, to his knowledge, anyway. But, rare as it was for him to like a person, he seemed to have a broken picker, so to speak. His attention was changed as Adam walked in front of him, blocking the screen until he got on his knees between the older man's legs. Adam set the First-Aid kit beside Pritchard, and pulled out a cotton ball and a bottle of acetone-free alcohol. Soaking it, he raised a hand up to Pritchard's cheek.

A sharp hiss came from the seated tech-rat, and a hand came up to lightly bat the metallic, prosthetic hand away. "I'm _fine_, Jensen." He spat, looking away.

Pursing his lips, he looked over the abused cheek that he had swung a fist to. "Francis, try to stop being a difficult little brat for five seconds."

Giving a sigh, he put his hands to his lap to show submission to the assistance, finally, rolling his eyes and looking away from Adam, not even bothering with the television that was giving some advertisement about Versalife, and their new, more potent form of neuropozyne.

"...It'd put my mind at ease, at least." Adam scoffed, bringing his fingers back up to stroke over the sure-to-bruise cheek, applying pressure to the skin he had broken. He must have dug one of the seams of his metal fist into the skin and cut in from the impact.

"And what _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?" The victim quipped, looking back down to the Aug for a moment. He found he wasn't used to having someone so close, looking at his face. His eyes turned away, to the light filtering from the giant, shuttered windows.

Adam's CASIE implant flared up, giving him a sign of the avoided eye contact. A bit confused, he didn't see any dramatic changes in disposition, and elected to ignore it. "...Can't a guy feel bad for acting on impulse?" He mumbled finally, focused on cleaning up the crime scene. He laid the damp, slightly bloodied cotton ball on the coffee table, moving to get the small tube of ointment out.

"Hmph," Huffed Pritchard, rather lazily, scoffing at the fact Adam could even _feel_. Then again, he had just driven the exhausted, confused man to wit's end. He really shouldn't have even brought up Megan and her research, or the fact nearly everyone in the workplace had made it a point not to tell Adam if they _did_ know. The fact that Adam had been a purist, and gotten a full-body augmentation, inside and out, all because of his childhood experiments from White Helix, and the fact his girlfriend went behind his back, using him as a lab rat wasn't a nice thing to bring up after he had just gotten back from the hell he put himself through. After all of the toil and travel, all of the patience and all of the lies Megan and Sarif fed him, Frank just had to go and bring it up. He hadn't even given Adam a chance to breathe, after all of the months Adam had gone through, no doubt penting up his emotions about this whole fiasco.

Silence grew between them, as Adam raised his middle finger to spread the dot of ointment over the cuts on his co-worker's cheek. It made Frank a little bit uncomfortable, having cold metal touch his skin, but, moreso, the hand of _Adam Jensen_, his rival and least favorite worker of the office. His jaw tensed under the cold finger, and Adam somewhat felt the resistance against his touch. He couldn't feel through his hands or legs any longer- Sadly, augmentation hadn't gotten to that stage of advancement. There were many things his arms and legs could do, though, some of the simple pleasures and pains were lost now. The CASIE was sort of a consolation for that, however. It told Adam of the tensed muscles, and irregular breath and heartbeat.

Once Adam was finished rubbing in the medicine, his middle finger slid, dropping from the line of Pritchard's chin.

"Are we done here?" Frank asked, a bit irritated from the contact.

"Yeah, you're welcome. Door's over there." Adam furrowed his brows, pissed off, screwing the cap back on the ointment tube, standing up and grabbing the soiled cotton ball off the coffee table, other hand closing the First-Aid kit and snatching it, walking off to the bathroom. "**_Use it._**"

Feeling a slight pang of guilt, and a bit of defense burn in his stomach from the now flippant, angered demeanor of the younger man, he stood up. His eyes followed Jensen as he disappeared past the door to his bedroom, hand raising in pursuit and mouth opening to speak, but he stopped. His mouth closed, and hand dropped to his side as he heard the door to the medicine cabinet slam slightly.

Looking down, expression softened and withered, Francis turned, walking up the stairs and heading out of Adam's apartment.

Adam lingered in the bathroom, hunched over with his hands against the counter, he tried to get over the anger that Pritchard was so experienced in birthing into him. Most of the time, he was good at ignoring him, but sometimes he just _knew_ how to get under his skin. Finally, his glance raised up, and found the mirror he shattered again, giving him a very fragmented, deformed version of his appearance. Adam hadn't looked at himself much within the past half-year, and it was almost sad how accustomed to it he was getting. He closed his eyes, using his Infolink to tap a connection to the reception desk downstairs. There was a long pause of dialtone, and then finally, the dreaded landlady answered.

"Chiron Apartment Complex- How may I help you today?" The woman asked, voice free of its constant moodiness.

"It's Jensen." The resident stated, and heard the facade break with a huffy sigh. He couldn't help but smile as the mental prediction he made came true.

"What is it, Mister Jensen? Did you _smash your mirror_ again?" She asked accusingly, with a strong hint of sarcasm.

"Actually, I _did_."

A silence, and then the woman raised her voice. "This is the second time you've done this, Adam. You need to schedule some anger management classes before I evict you from the property." She spat, causing Adam to tense in irritation.

"Look, it's been a rough day, _miss_." Adam started, sarcastic and confrontational, staring down at his counter. "I'm paying for the replacement, just like last time- It's _my_ money, and I don't need to hear you talk about eviction when you're not even concerned in this mess. Now, be a good girl, and call maintenance, order a fucking mirror, and I'll give you the transfer when I see it." He growled, voice raising a little bit. There was a healthy pause, where Adam figured she just hung up.

"...Yes sir." She mumbled, reluctant, before the call ended. He took a moment to breathe, running cold palms over his face. Staring at the mirror, he shook his head, moving to step out of the bathroom. Looking back, he saw where he had broken down and felt a knot tighten in his stomach. It had been humiliating for Pritchard to see him like that. He winced his eyes shut for a moment, swearing to himself that he would never pull something like that again, no matter how close he was to losing it. As he made his way to the living room, he saw the desk his half-done antique clock was sprawled across. It was crooked from Frank twisting on his heel and slamming into it, only to buckle down and brace his arms against it to hold himself up when Adam had punched him.

He felt he shouldn't have gotten that angry. Maybe his landlady was right, and maybe he did need some help. But Adam was never the guy to accept that. He was the last person to say there was a problem with himself, in almost every situation. After Megan ran off with all of those imprisoned scientists, he felt like that was a sign. Maybe it was a sign to let her go. She was fine, Adam was positive of it. Yet after all she put him through, he still cared, and he hated himself for it. After lying and hurting him all this time, yet he was still willing to hit Pritchard across the face in her defense.

Staring down at the wooden floor, Adam felt guilt begin to roll in his stomach. He could still see his fist connecting with Frank's cheek, his table scraping across the floor, clock falling onto its back, Frank's knees hitting the ground. After he had found out that the older man had worried about his safety, had been crying and mourning him early, and finally, had come to visit him. After he had instinctively latched on to Adam as if he truly was back from the dead. It was really messed up, and he would have to find some way to apologize, and get over what he had done.

Walking up to the front door, he turned the lights off until the orange glow from his window was the only thing coming in, casting elongated shadows across the lit floor. He could faintly see the kitchen cabinets, where he pulled out a glass, dumped in some ice and poured himself a small bit of whiskey. He took it downstairs and into the bedroom, turning everything off to find the same lighting painting orange across his bed. He stared down at it for a moment, taking a sip from his glass. It was a bit depressing to think for almost a whole year, he had been living here, with a big empty space next to him where he'd lie. After he and Megan broke up, Adam moved out and gotten a place of his own again.

He needed to stop thinking about Megan. Sighing, he downed the rest of his whiskey and set it beside the bed. Slipping out of his coat, fingers came up to undo the metal pressed to his back, reaching around to cling to his hips, moving to the foot of his bed to set the titanium plating down on the floor. Next was his flak vest, and then fingers came to take the off-white, thick angora turtleneck he wore beneath it all off to join the pile Adam created in front of his wardrobe. Eyes stayed down as he undid his belt and pushed his trousers off to lay crumpled on the floor. Standing in a pair of black boxer briefs, he looked out to the window, and back down to the light playing over his built frame. There were bruises and scrapes lining his ribs and chest, from the hell he had gone through over the past few days. Between the foul biochip Darrow had implanted in all of those civilian's heads, and the shootings from all of those bangers and guards, he really hoped Sarif had deskwork ready for him, or at least a covered medical bill this week. He looked like a muddy painting, covered in yellows, greys and purples. Turning his glance to his back, what he could see of it wasn't any prettier.

Walking into the dark bathroom, he opened the stall to turn on the water. His fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers, pushing them onto the floor and stepping in to take a much-needed shower. A soft groan came from his throat when the harsh water pressure hit down on a bruise against his ribcage. Over time, Adam got used to it, and calmed a little more against it, trying to avoid contact between his sore muscles and the spray. It felt a bit strange for him to shower in the poor excuse for light coming into his bedroom, and past the open bathroom door. He wanted to, though, it let him focus just on him, on this, and relax. He was finally back, finally able to breathe. If David called him in to send him out again, he swore he would give him a harder punch than the one he gave to Francis. Scoffing in amusement at the mental image, he looked down, hands running over his organic chest and stomach, slick from the water.

It wasn't long before he was finished, walking out, almost completely dry. He didn't bother with dressing. One convenience about his bathroom was a dryer they had installed into the showers. It made drying his augments less worrysome. Stepping up, he nearly buckled in on himself, collapsing onto the bed. The soft sheets against his skin were the biggest comfort upon coming back from Panchea. Taking a moment before slipping the covers messily over his legs and hips, he shifted, eyes opening to look at the light casting shapes over his bed and metallic arms. It was nearly entrancing for him, soothing him, until his eyes slid closed, and he began to slow down into some of the deepest sleep he'd had since the surgery.

Hearing an incoherent, muffled voice, he moaned with a gravelly, low sound, turning onto his other side before it began to stir him awake. It was light outside, and his eyes adjusted rather quickly, thanks to the augmented eye replacements.

"Jensen- _Jensen_-!" Called the voice of his most recent visitor, through his Infolink.

"Mm- What the hell is it, Francis?" Adam mumbled sleepily, voice hoarse from sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to catch his breath and wake up fully.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but it's _two_ in the afternoon." The older man quipped, irritated. "Sarif's been asking where you are."

Jolting up in bed, he pursed his lips. "Damn it- I slept in-"

"It's _fine_. I told him that you had a rough night and that I told you to take your time coming in today."

Eyes widening a bit in shock, Adam thought to make sure he heard correctly. "Are you serious?"

Frank went quiet for a quick moment. He actually backed Adam up. Was this some sort of apology for yesterday? The security manager felt like _he_ was the one who owed the apology.

"Just- Hurry up, Adam. Sarif's fine with it for now but if you don't come in soon, I think he's going to have a word with you."

"Yeah- I'm getting dressed right now." Adam mumbled, slipping into a new change of clothes, throwing on a snug black t-shirt and boxer briefs, bringing on a pair of carbon colored jeans.

"Alright." Was all the tech manager said, severing the connection.

"Wait-" Adam said quickly, but was too late. Sighing, he looked back down, unstrapping his gun holster from his trousers to wrap around his thigh and belt loop. He slipped into a pair of dress shoes and put on his flak jacket, moving to slip the titanium backplate into his backpack, throwing on his coat. It was about two-twenty. Thinking of a solution, he might be able to catch the bus if he was fast enough.

He nearly darted into the elevator, staring at the floor number as it changed, flicking out the shades from his augmented cheekbones. As soon as the door opened, he was out, ignoring whatever bitchy comment the landlady barked from the reception desk. As soon as he was outside, he made his way over to the corner of his block, and found the bus closing its doors and driving off.

"Shit." Adam hissed. It was looking to be one of those days. He looked around, figuring he would have to go by foot now. Cutting through an alley, he made his way past dumpsters and homeless street punks, finding a crawlspace to go through, instead of cutting through the metro station. A few useful paths and fire-escape hops later, he was coming down the street from the L.I.M.B. Clinic, running across the street to the Sarif Industries building.

Catching his breath, he tapped a frequency into his Infolink, and made his way through the lobby.

"Adam, where the _hell_ have you been?" David asked in frustration, cutting any greeting off that Adam had yet to give.

"Sorry boss- I-" The manager started, but was stopped short again.

"Don't worry about it, son," Sarif said in a softer tone. "Frank told me. You haven't missed anything, but, you _do_ have to take a look at a little gift I left on your desk."

Sighing, the employee always knew what that meant. "Thanks, boss. You shouldn't have," he replied with, as he always did.

The connection was severed, and Adam made his way to his office. As he expected, there was a digital tablet laying on his desk, holding all of the paperwork he had to go through. He set his backpack down beside his desk. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but Adam had to go see Pritchard about yesterday- and see if the damage he dealt was worthy of a lawsuit against him.

He went down to the second floor and made his way to the tech lab, knocking against it with his knuckle for a change.

"Come in," Said the familiar, almost moody voice of his colleague. It brought a slight smirk out of Adam, to know that Francis never, ever changed. He opened the door, and saw the long-haired manager look up with confusion.

"Took your time getting here,_ didn't you_?" His tone was dripping with unnecessary assault. The first place Adam's eyes went was to his cheek, and his stomach dropped into his pelvis. There was a jagged purple smear under the skin over Frank's cheekbone, and the hollow was yellow, with a slight, dull magenta splotch as it got to the corner of his lip. Luckily it didn't appear to be very swollen, but it still stung him with guilt.

Walking over, he ignored Pritchard's lovely greeting, setting the tablet down on the other man's desk, walking over to turn the swivel chair to face him. It caused Frank to go quiet, eyes widening, throat shifting as he swallowed, while Adam's eyes ran over his cheek. He retracted his shades back to reveal green-yellow irises, fingers coming up to Frank's chin to turn his head and look closely at it.

It was quiet as Adam scanned his cheek. The older man was silent, with eyes looking anywhere but at his assailant. "...Thanks for the concern." He muttered sarcastically, but softly. Teeth gritting tight together, Adam looked up to blue eyes, catching them for a moment.

"I was showing concern yesterday, until you threw it away like it was nothing. I don't show concern because of people like _you_, Francis, who make it feel like a waste."

The words made a wave of guilt flood Pritchard's stomach and slide up his throat. "...I'm...sorry, Jensen." Frank looked down, brows furrowed in embarrassment for giving such a rare apology. "...If you hadn't treated it, I'd look like I have a tumor in my cheek." He continued, and Adam actually smiled a slight bit, running his thumb over the sore cheek to see just how swollen it was.

"If I hadn't punched you..." Adam stared, but trailed off and was cut short.

"It was my fault for bringing anything up. I shouldn't have come over. That's the last time I ever _will_." He said, a little bit harsh, but not just toward Adam, but also himself.

Standing back upright, he looked down to the desk. "No, it...was good to see you. You had me a little worried."

Laying back against his swivel chair, Pritchard quirked a brow. "...The mighty Jensen, _happy_ to see me? That's a work of fiction if I ever heard one."

Adam scoffed, eyes narrow. "Yeah, well the mighty Pritchard coming over to dash into my weary arms is just as unbelievable."

The smaller man's eyes widened, and there was a flush that burned his cheeks bright in irritated embarrassment. He said nothing, but his eyes shot down, and Adam's CASIE augment spelled it out for him with haste. Chuckling, Adam looked down, his smirk fading as he sobered.

"...I wanted to apologize, and thank you for yesterday." Adam mumbled, tracing his chilled, smooth fingertip over the rim of the tablet Sarif had left for him.

Looking back up, Frank gave his own scoff. "I really don't need either of those."

"Well, take them for what they're worth." Adam's eyes stayed on the tablet and away from Frank. "You should know I don't ever say those words."

"...I know." Frank said, rather seriously, clean of any rude tone. His words actually sounded a bit...understanding. "And I accept them and...give my own."

"I get the apology, but, what the hell are you thanking me for?" Adam blinked, looking over to the techie who was turning away from him, staring at his monitor, doing nothing in particular.

"...Coming _home_." Frank said, and Adam went quiet, eyes slightly wide, lips parted in a soft surprise. His stomach fluttered, and he swallowed, smiling. He wouldn't press. He'd drop it, and accept it this time.

There was a silence exchanged between them. With his back to Jensen, he winced at it, hating how awkward things usually got between them when they weren't sassing one another. But, Adam didn't realize the awkwardity, and just looked down almost pensively.

"I was...wondering if maybe I could work in here, today." Adam said, almost inaudibly. But with the silence, it wasn't hard to pick up.

Looking down, confused, a hand came to stroke the ponytail adorning Pritchard's head. "Why, may I ask?"

"I was planning on taking you out somewhere after work, and," Adam paused. "Well, I think you owe me for going AWOL on me back at Panchea."

Giving an exasperated sigh, Pritchard looked back to his younger coworker. "You're never going to let me live this down."

"Oh, I will," He said amusedly, an odd sound with how blunt and serious Adam kept his raspy, gravelly voice. "Just, once I feel that it's been properly made up for."

Shaking his head, he turned back to his monitor. "...And, just where are we going after work?"

"I was thinking we could get some coffee, or just get something to eat." Adam picked up his tablet, leaning back to half-sit on the desk beside Frank's computer screen. He turned it on, to look over what Sarif had up his sleeve for him today. Shipping charts for new camera equipment, a few reviews and complaints from coworkers, giving a detailed report on Panchea, nothing of particular interest.

"I didn't know you wanted to take me on a date so badly, Jensen." Frank huffed sarcastically on his breath, eyes fixed on his screen.

Pausing, Adam couldn't stifle a chuckle. "Well, we've worked together for, _how_ many years now? I think it would be a good idea to take our minds off of what just happened."

"Are you referring to Panchea, or our little spat yesterday...?"

"Both suffice." Adam murmured, reaching down to his pocket to pat for his pack of cigarrettes, pausing and moving to pat his other side, and then his back. "...Shit."

Looking at the display, Frank rolled his eyes, reaching over to the corner of his desk to pull out two from his open pack. "Here." He offered one to Adam and lit his own up, passing him the lighter.

He hummed a sound as thanks, popping the cigarrette between his lips, and lighting up. It was strange that they were actually getting along. It wasn't entirely the first time, but then they had just been neutral.

For the next three hours, they both sat, exchanging chatter here and there as they worked. Adam was finally finishing his report on his recent assignment, now just reading over the complaints and reports from coworkers and Sarif. It looked like their network was now secure, but there were still a few kinks that needed to be touched on. One being the recent disappearance of neuropozyne. Another was training a rookie in security.

"Mm," Pritchard sighed, a hand running over his face. He brought his arms over his head, and stretched, standing to ease his muscles, and rouse them from sitting so long. Adam smiled a little as he heard the vertebrae of Frank's lower back pop. He gave a soft gasp, and a sigh of relief.

"You know, you're probably in terrible shape," Adam muttered, teasingly. "You sit in a chair all day and earn a paycheck."

"Ohh, if you only knew how important my job was. You probably have some sort of hyperactivity problem from _never sitting in a chair_, Jensen." The older man quipped, but sighed. "It actually makes me pretty sore, not moving around, but...That's what painkillers are for, I guess."

Shaking his head, Adam turned off the tablet, looking up to Frank.

"That is, saying I _have_ any painkillers left. I'm sick of having to go to the pharmacy so often to cope with your kleptomania." He narrowed his eyes, and Adam rolled his eyes.

"They were put to good use, on something better than a computer nerd, I assure you." He returned, reaching behind Frank's monitor to pull out three white pills he had left for him to find.

"Oh, you shouldn't have..." Frank took them, downing them with an old, half-empty bottle of water.

"Should we get going?" Adam looked back up to the blue-eyed tech manager.

"Yeah, let me just ask one of my boys to cover for me." He stared at his computer, pulling up his email to write a message to one of them. Adam leaned over, catching a glimpse before he stood upright.

"Meet me at the front door, I have to turn this in to the boss." Adam said, moving to walk out of the tech lab and to the elevator.

About ten minutes later, Adam was coming down the stairs to find Frank standing there, hands in his pockets, looking around. He smirked in amusement, catching up with him.

"Are you finished drooling over Sarif's lap?" Pritchard cocked a brow, turning to walk out of the automatic doors.

Adam scoffed, shaking his head a bit, not even bothering with a comeback to that one. Of course, Francis noted the lack of response.

"God, you're just his little puppy, aren't you." He breathed, stepping down the stairs with Adam.

"You're just mad that I actually take some pride in my job. From what I hear circulating the workplace, you _had_ to work here." The younger man remarked, once they made it to the sidewalk.

Franks eyes widened for a moment. "How did you-" He paused, sighing. "...I don't like to talk about it."

Leaving it alone, Adam took point, and about twenty minutes later, they were coming in to a steakhouse Adam used to frequent. Frank looked around, before they were seated at the counter, with a waiter coming up to them. They ordered, Adam getting a sirloin steak, and Pritchard just getting a burger. The Aug leaned against the bar with his elbows, looking over to the other for a moment.

"So, what's with your email?" The younger one rasped, looking down as he cut up his steak. "What's 'Nucl3arsnake?'" He chuckled, taking a bite.

"Oh," Frank sighed, picking up his burger. "It's...my handle on the internet. I've had it for at least eight years now."

"Your '_handle_?'"

"Well, I wouldn't expect _you_ of all people to have one. It's like...an alias I guess. It's to give you a little bit of anonymity. It's from my hacking days." He muttered almost spitefully, taking a big bite out of his burger.

Adam was quiet, expectant. "...You gonna tell me?"

Groaning, Frank pursed his lips, swallowing his food and taking a drink of his soda. "Since you seem so _fascinated_, I guess I have to." He scoffed, taking another bite before he recited his story. "When I was younger, I was getting quite tech-savvy. I started out just making sure I knew how to protect my computer from hackers."

Eating his food idly, Adam stayed quiet, nodding.

"Well, there was this one kid. He called himself 'Windmill.' He tried to tap into my accounts. He was _good_, Jensen." Pritchard nearly growled, shaking his head. "But, being as amazing as I am, I blocked him right before he got in. I gave him a nasty message. After that, we started trying to screw each other over, and we would exchange encrypted emails, giving praise and cocky criticism to each other's attempts. But..." He looked down, smirking a little bit as he reminisced. "We eventually got to exchanging conversation. We started hacking other people and companies, and- We made a few friends that way. Andrea, back at the office, is one of them."

Narrowing his eyes, Adam blinked in slight surprise. "_How_ exactly did this happen?"

"I'm getting to it." Francis scolded, taking another bite and pausing for a moment. "...We had this little hacker group, Nucl3arsnake, SHYNEFERRET, Windmill, Overlord, and Ghost." He murmured, earning a snigger from Adam. Ignoring it, but grinning in amusement at the laughter, he carried on. "And, we decided to take on Sarif Industries." His grin left and he grew serious. "We didn't realize what we were dealing with, and- Don't get me wrong. We got in, but, it wasn't long before we were all traced. This was before I knew about tunneling."

"Tunneling?" Adam repeated, unfamiliar with the term, and not surprised. Frank didn't show any surprise either.

"Destroying your IP. It gives you complete protection from tracing- But, that's beside the point." He took another bite, wiping one hand off on a napkin, washing his meal down with his drink. "We all had police come busting down our door, cuffing us." He went quiet for a moment. swallowing and looking down at his food. "I was just a kid, living on my own. I was a good boy, just...not on the internet. You can imagine that when they came in to get me, I was losing my shit." He scoffed, and Adam smirked almost endearingly. "I started crying, and freaking out. I was hyperventilating, all the way to the courthouse and the prison."

"Aw," Adam hummed, half-teasingly, chuckling as he finished his steak, taking to his drink, looking to Pritchard.

"Shut it, Jensen." The older one quipped. "... About a week later, the _Grand Messiah_, David Sarif comes walking in to talk to me. I thought he was planning to see how badly he could prosecute, but..." A pause, and a scoff. He smiled, shaking his head. "He offered me and Andrea a job. The others were there in the prison but, I never saw them. He was impressed by our work, and he thought maybe we could 'use our powers for good,' and protect his network instead of trying to break into it. We of course took the job over prison, and...Well..." Looking back up, to Adam, he smiled. "I did my time and liked the work and pay, so I stuck around. My hacking days are more-or-less behind me but I still kept my handle. We all still call each other by them. We don't bother with names. I never cared to call Andrea anything but SHYNEFERRET, or Arie anything but Windmill, so on, so forth."

Adam paused. "...You're buddies with Arie_ Van Bruggen_?"

Smirking weakly, he nodded. "Ten years and counting, baby." He chuckled, looking down as he finished his burger.

Scoffing, a little bit speechless, Adam shook his head. "Jesus, Francis. He's a character."

"You met him in person, didn't you?" Pritchard raised his brow.

"Well, yeah. I can't believe you _haven't_, really."

"Normally internet friends _stay_ as internet friends." Frank finished off his soda, sitting up.

"...Would you ever _want_ to meet him?" Adam tilted his head a little, almost fascinated by the lack of personality they shared between each other.

Going quiet with thought, the other soon nodded. "If he ever wants to, sure. Same with Overlord and Ghost. I see Andrea on a weekly basis, just about but that's work."

"Hm." Adam looked down as they stood, and made their way to leave. Pritchard made his way to pay, but Adam cut him off, handing the waiter his credit card.

"Excuse me-" Frank started, but was cut off.

"Payment, for doing your beautiful, charming, _flawless_ face in." Adam quipped sarcastically, taking the card back to slip into his wallet.

Growing silent, he followed Adam out and they stood together. "...Do you work tomorrow?" Asked the older man, brows turned awkwardly from even asking such a question. They had hit it off pretty well. What was the harm?

"Yeah, I work eight to two. Are you off?" Adam asked, flicking his shades out. Pritchard narrowed his eyes at the nearly useless augmentation.

"Pretty much. I can monitor the network on my phone."

Halting in confusion, Adam stammered a bit. "And...why do you even have to show up at work...?" He asked rather off-handedly.

"Ouch, I didn't know my presence in the workplace was so poisonous." Frank teased, blue eyes narrowing in cockiness. "I have days where I do more than just monitor. Tomorrow isn't one of them. Would you like to see about doing something like this again, once you're off?" He asked, moving a few stray bangs behind his ear.

"I guess I can tolerate you for another day." Adam murmured, straightening his highman coat.

"Until then, I guess. Don't put me in charge of being your alarm clock again." The older one furrowed his brows for a second, before he gave a pat to Adam's arm, turning to leave. "Catch you tomorrow."

Adam watched for a moment as Frank left down the street, and swallowed, shaking his head. What the _hell_ had he just done, taking Francis Pritchard out to lunch? Stopping and taking a figurative step back, he tried not to overthink it, and just let it be. Shaking his head, he turned to head back home.

**((A/N: Thank you for reading! Please, _PLEASE_ rate and review it for me, every bit of input counts! If you guys like it, I'll write another chapter, for sure. Have a good day! ))**


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